


Oh He Never Speaks His Passions

by victoriousscarf



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Fili has a Fiddle, Fuzzy Timeline, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 18:08:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t to say Ori was bad at music. </p><p>But he wasn’t particularly good either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh He Never Speaks His Passions

**Author's Note:**

> And then I started quoting "He Plays the Violin" from 1776 the musical for a title. 
> 
> I really have no idea where this fic was going and I apologize for the sheer fluff level in it. (It will end in angst eventually, you all know it). There's not much of Fili's view point in here.

It wasn’t to say Ori was bad at music.

But he wasn’t particularly good either.

Like his brothers, though neither Dori nor Nori liked to admit they had anything in common anymore, even blood, Ori played the flute. It was a nice enough instrument and he rather liked it over all.

Which wasn’t to say he was confident in playing it, or that he liked taking solos, or that it made him feel as good as his drawings and writings, but  he enjoyed a merry band of dwarves making music as much as anyone living in the Blue Mountains.

But some nights, while different folks were playing, Fili and Kili would show up with fiddles and Ori usually sat those nights out. He preferred to watch, the lamps glinting off golden hair as the elder brother played, Fili’s body often swaying as he played. Not that Ori would ever try to say Kili wasn’t also an excellent fiddle player—because he was—but Fili played and Ori couldn’t stop watching.

He really would prefer no one ask him why or look too closely at his own motivation.

Ori was watching Fili as he played the fiddle, surrounded by admirers as he played by himself, Kili having moved off somewhere. Just as Ori considered slipping away to try and get his feelings out on paper, he felt something poke his side. Startling, he looked up at where Kili was drinking from a flagon, watching his brother play his audience rather than the dwarf he just poked with his fiddle.

“Yes?” Ori ventured after a moment and Kili glanced down. Sometimes Ori forgot the darker dwarf was growing taller than most of them.

“Oh, just trying to see my brother from a different view,” Kili said. “Do you realize how often you watch him?”

Ori’s eyes widened and started stammering something and Kili laughed, shaking his head. “It’s fine, Ori,” he said, pushing the other back down from where Ori had started to rise. “I was just wondering if you’d realized it.”

“He’s very charismatic,” Ori managed.

“So am I,” Kili pouted. “I’m even more charming, according to most.” He laughed as Ori looked sideways at him. Fili stopped playing, gesturing to his brother. Kili glanced down at Ori again. “Don’t worry, I don’t think he’s noticed either,” he said, before moving over, handing Fili the half full mug and readying his fiddle as well.

Instead of leaving like he’d planned, Ori stayed the whole night, just watching. He really did start to wonder then if Fili ever noticed how often he watched and almost hoped he didn’t.

Because Ori had no idea what he was doing and the thought of someone else being aware of even a little of what he felt was terrifying.

Except, Ori suddenly felt a strong dislike for Kili because he was certain after Kili talked to him, he found Fili watching him with a tilt of his head, braids falling with gravity. Ori usually stopped watching then and ducked his head away.

He didn’t want attention, he never had and now he felt less sure than ever.

It was several days later when he retreated outside to practice his flute, not wanting anyone else around while he tried to capture at least some of the joy Fili seemed to insert into any music he created.

“That’s the wrong note, if you’re trying to play the song I think you’re trying to play,” a voice behind him said and he almost dropped the flute entirely. “It’s higher,” Fili added.

Ori blinked at him before nodding. “Th-thank you,” he said, trying the refrain again and Fili nodded, continuing down the mountain side. Ori watched him go, letting out a long breath as quietly as he could before Fili suddenly turned around, several steps down.

“Hey,” the displaced dwarf prince said and Ori felt inferior in his knitted jumper, fingerless gloves gripping the flute. He always felt inferior watching the way Kili moved, the grace he fought with and the embossed leathers he wore with ease. Not that Fili ever dressed ostentatiously, remarkably plain for a prince. But his royalty was in his expression.

“Yeah?” Ori asked, flute inching higher against his chest as he gripped it tighter.

“So, if Kili is right, which is not always something I like to admit, you’ve been watching me for a while.” Ori’s eyes widened and Fili grinned. “Aha. So you have been then?”

“Who wouldn’t watch you?” Ori said instead, trying to puff his chest out and sound confident.

Fili’s brows came together and he considered that. “Lots of dwarves?” he offered and Ori shook his head slightly.

“You play a lovely fiddle,” he said, sinking his chin down into his scarf at his audacity to compliment the heir of Durin.

Grinning again, Fili swept down into a bow. “Thank you,” he said, popping back up and still somewhat beaming at the compliment. With that he turned again, continuing down the mountainside and Ori finally let out the breath he’d been holding, scurrying back into the mountain.

For several days that’s where it lay until one night Dori fused and bothered him until Ori agreed to play his flute with him during dinner one night. They were meshed in with several other dwarves so at least he wouldn’t remotely be the center of attention.

Except when he looked up Fili was watching him. Sitting at the table next to Thorin, talking quietly with his uncle and brother, he would glanced over every once and a while and just watch Ori. It made Ori’s fingers shake and he lost track of the right notes a couple times and even across the room Fili seemed to have an ear for it because he smirked every time.

Finally the ordeal was over and Ori didn’t quite run away from the dinner chamber but he came close. He stopped, leaning against the wall and breathing, glad that at least Fili’s fiddle had never made an appearance that night. 

Any gratitude he had to the world that night stopped when footsteps approached, followed shortly by Fili’s gold braids turning a corner. Stopping, Fili leaned against the wall as well, crossing his arms. “You’re not very confident for a dwarf, are you?”

“I’m confident,” Ori protested and Fili looked over, smiling but not calling him out on his proclamation. “Just, not like you,” he amended and Fili’s expression changed oddly.

For a moment Ori could have sworn he didn’t look very confident. “So,” Fili said before he could consider that too deeply. “You’ve been watching me and I’ve been watching you now. So what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” Ori said, not quite a squeak but closer than he would have liked, considering his earlier claim to confidence.

“Well,” Fili said and shifted forward and Ori watched every movement. “Most people, like my brother, who I admit isn’t the first person I’d trust on this, would say watching usually means something.” As Fili moved Ori’s eyes followed the sway of the silver clasps holding his braids together and swallowed hard.

“Like what?” he said.

Fili sighed, not rolling his eyes but almost looking like he was considering it. “I don’t know, attraction maybe? Desire of some kind, for friendship or something else.”

“Something else?” Ori swallowed hard, realizing he was swaying toward the other.

Fili didn’t roll his eyes for which Ori was thankful for. “Come now,” he said. “You’re not that much younger than me are you?”

“No, I’m not,” Ori said and Fili shifted forward again. “But what you’re—well, what you’re implying, I don’t understand.”

“You don’t understand?” Fili arched a brow. “What don’t you understand?”

Ori looked down the hallway and back to the prince. “You’re you,” he said. “With your… you’re the royal prince, the very heir to the throne under the mountain and you play the fiddle and you’re…” he looked down. “Well, you’re very lovely really and everything and I’m—”

“Before you say it,” Fili said, a tiny frown back. “Please don’t say you aren’t good enough.”

“But,” Ori said and flushed. “Isn’t that, well, true?”

Fili shrugged, something like doubt hiding in his own eyes. “If you let it be,” he said. “Because who really said I was good enough to be the heir?”

“I do,” Ori said, raising a hand between their bodies, not even hesitating a moment and Fili smiled then.

“And you wonder why I like you,” he murmured, one hand coming up to touch Ori’s hair. “If I kissed you, would you mind?”

“I wouldn’t understand but you really think I’d—?” Ori started and didn’t finish before Fili leaned forward then.

And Ori truly didn’t understand it. He had no idea what interest a prince might have in him, let alone one so lovely but that didn’t really matter with Fili titling his head slightly to one side and stepping forward again, one hand at Ori’s waist.

“So you like how I play the fiddle?” Fili asked when he drew back slightly and Ori exhaled sharply.

“You’re asking?” Ori managed.

“Well,” Fili laughed and shook his head, leaning in again and Ori met him for that kiss. “I’ll have to play for you then,” he offered and Ori nodded a little too enthusiastically.

“If,” he started. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

Fili hummed. “I’m sure I’ll find the time,” he said.

“That would be lovely,” Ori murmured, shifting into the space between them.


End file.
